AKA Super Irony
by brightgreenkitty
Summary: Given the course Kates life has taken even before she came to America to finish her degree, it wasn't much of a surprise that on the one weekend she went to New York, she happened to run into no other than a sociopathic mind controlling super villain. But even she couldn't have predicted how this encounter would change her life.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This story is set in the middle of season one of Jessica Jones and mostly independent from the actual plot, except for a few future intersections. I hope you guys like it, I'm sorry for any language mistakes I might have made and am very happy for any feedback! This is my first fan fiction so I hope you like it.

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AKA Super Irony:

Chapter 1:

I watched the red liquid swish around the glass, leaving just the slightest trail behind, only lasting for a few seconds. I was on my second glass of wine and slowly approaching the point where being tipsy transitioned into being drunk. I should have eaten something, I should have ignored the voice in my head telling me I would look bloated and most importantly I shouldn't have trusted Denise, of all people, to set me up on a blind date.

Downing the last bit of my wine I scanned the restaurant again, the fourth time in five minutes, knowing nothing would have changed. The chair opposite me was still empty and I could practically feel my waiters glaring stare on the back of my head. I checked my watch, again, pulled out my phone, again, still no answer to my texts or calls. I should really take a hint. Being 45 minutes late without a good reason, or any explanation at all, was clearly a sign that Ethan was not interested in me. I should have known.

"Some more wine, Miss?" even I, who usually had no clue, could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"No, thank you. Just the cheque please.", was that a sigh of relief?

"Right away.", he ushered off so fast one would think he didn't want to leave me any time to change my mind again.

I gave my phone one last look before stuffing it into my purse, fishing my wallet out instead. I looked down at my book, still on the same page I had opened it when I sat down. I must have read the same paragraph at leased 10 times, and yet I wouldn't even be able to tell you a single word from it. Just as my eyes settled on the first sentence, beginning to read it for the 11th time, my waiter returned, empty handed. He had a strange expression on his face, confused, as if he'd just woken up and was trying to hold on to his dream.

"You are to join the Gentleman at table 6.", he gestured to a table behind me.

Now I looked confused. Either I was a lot drunker than I'd initially guessed, or I had actually just been told to sit at another table.

"But my cheque…"

"Has been taken care of, Miss. I really must insist you join the Gentleman at table 6.", he looked even more confused, frightened almost, as he lead me to a table in the back. He pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit. I kept standing, looking at the people seated in front of me. Two women grinned at me, they were positioned on either side of a man dressed in an impeccable suit. He, too, smiled at me.

"I don't mean to be rude, but …"

"Then don't be. Sit down. Have a glass of wine."

Of course, how silly of me. How could I've forgotten my manners like that.

"Now tell me dear. Are you from Britain?"

"No."

"Then how come you have a british accent?"

"I was taught British English in school .. And I'm also currently studying English."

"Fascinating! Isn't it fascinating?" he turned to the women beside him. They smiled.

"Ow bugger off!", still only smiling," I mean it, go away! I'm done with you two. Go!" They got up and left.

"More wine?", my eyes fell on the empty glass in my hand.

"That would be lovely, thank you!"

A chuckle, "So well mannered." A smile, "Oh, we are going to have so much fun, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"Fantastic! Now, let's start with your name."

"Kate, Katherine Meier."

"Tell me, Katherine, why is a girl like you dinning alone on a Friday night?"

"I got stood up by a date."

"Now who would stand you up?"

"Ethan Charles."

"Well, his loss is my gain! Another glass of wine?"

"Yes, certainly."


	2. Chapter 2

My head was pounding and my stomach seemed to cramp up in synchronicity with it. I dreaded opening my eyes fearing the light would make the needles currently attacking the top of my head even more angry. Lying there, as still as possible, an even more sickening feeling, than the one my hangover had to offer, overcame me. This wasn't my bed, this wasn't even my apartment and worst of all, this was not a surreal nightmare. Last night really did happen.

I slowly moved my head, wincing in pain. This wasn't just my hangover making me hurt all over. I could feel every muscle in my body, becoming more aware of them with every second. And the longer I lay there the worse the feeling in my stomach got, with every memory of last night coming back to me.

"Katherine, get up. Breakfast's in the kitchen."

I jerked up, the rest of the world along with my organs followed a few seconds later. My head started pounding even more furiously, making my stomach twist into a tighter knot. Still, I got up and stumbled to the kitchen, naked.

"Well, good morning there Kate. Have some breakfast.", I stood there, not moving.

"Go on, eat. What are you waiting for?", I still didn't move.

"Oh that's right, almost forgot.", He paused for a moment, putting his newspaper down, slowly scanning my pale, shaking body standing in front of him. I could feel my cheeks getting flushed with shame and anger.

"Alright then, have some orange juice instead, but no breakfast, or lunch. And we'll see about supper.", he grinned at me and picked up his newspaper again. I sat down at the table, taking the glass of orange juice handed to me by a young woman.

I felt sick. Far beyond the feeling of cold orange juice hitting my empty stomach, I was completely alone and vulnerable in a strangers home. I had no control over my own body or mind. I was at the mercy of a merciless narcissist with no way out.

"Go on, make yourself descent. I have to head out soon.", he took a last sip of his coffee, fixing me with a stare, "While I'm gone you are to exercise, if she stops, beat her.", his eyes switched to the couple in the kitchen, their eyes kept jumping from him to me, trying not to stay on either for too long. They looked as terrified as I felt.

It didn't take long for me to fulfill his demand, they only had to beat me once, when I was trying to keep the orange juice from resurfacing. Luckily, I guess, I have a tendency to pass out fairly easily. Whenever I'm in a lot of pain my body tends to shut down. That day I lasted about half an hour. The longest I ever managed to hold out in the following days was 3 hours, 32 minutes and 4 beatings.

We changed apartments twice while I was with him, the second one belonging to a family. We had to leave that one rather abruptly. The last apartment belonged to a successful young man, whose name I never learned. I didn't stay long in his apartment, neither did Kilgrave.

He had told me his name some time during the two weeks that he had me under his control. He also told me about his abilities, how exactly he was gifted, how she was too. Jessica Jones. The reason we had to leave the second apartment, the reason he made me starve myself, work my body into the ground. He compared me to her, my weakness to her strength, my plainness to her beauty, my manners to her vulgarity. I didn't measure up, not just in height.

"Jessica knows how to take a punch."

"Jessica is strong, she doesn't go down so easily."

"This is your own fault. You wanted this. You told me yourself. I am just trying to help you, to improve you. Your mind isn't strong enough. Well, mine is! Jessicas is! Jessica's not as weak and broken as yours. You're broken because you let people break you. You're breakable! Look at you! Look at yourself! You are weak! Your body is weak! Your mind is weak! You are nothing like her! Nothing like me!"

He was right. It was my fault. My body was weak and so was my mind, I'd said it myself. During my first night he had asked me if I considered myself to be strong. I'd said no.

"Why?"

"My mind is weak. It's the way I think, what I think, how I see myself, my own body."

He'd told me to explain myself.

"I am depressed. I-I suffer from mental illness, depression, anxiety disorder, eating disorder. I see myself as fat and ugly, as worthless and a burden to others."

"Are you serious? Mental illness? What you got that for?"

"I am serious. I don't know why I have it, it's been with me for a while now. It'll always be with me, I guess."

He just looked at me, I could see the disgust in his face. I felt sick, I'd lain my soul bare in front of this man. He had made me tell him things I couldn't even admit to myself yet.

"You know what. _I_ am going to help you. I'm going to be a hero, show Jessica that I can change, that I too can help people. You have a weak, broken mind? Well, good thing I can control minds then! I mean it's all just in your head, isn't it?", he smiled excitedly at me, "Aren't you lucky you met me?"

"Yes"


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: This chapter may be a bit dark for some, it's quite violent at points.

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Chapter 3:

There had been another time we'd talked about his powers. The last night I was with him. He'd asked me what my superpower would be, if I could choose one.

"I want to be able to change things with my mind, to control them."

"Mind control?", he'd chuckled, "So like me then?"

"Yes, somewhat like your powers.", I trailed off.

"What is it? What are you thinking about? Tell me!"

"I was just wondering. Since you can make people do things. And not everybody gets their powers straight away … Would it be possible that you could _make_ someone reveal their powers?"

"You mean, make _you_ reveal your powers, don't you? Doubt you have any at all. But all right, I'll give it a go. I order you to reveal any and all superpower you might possess or are yet to have, right now!"

I'd waited, hoped, silently begged that something would happen.

"Anything?"

"No."

—

I was still sitting on the cold kitchen floor, starring at the same spot. I could hear the dripping sound echo in the otherwise silent apartment. Every now and then a siren would disrupt the monotonous sound, making my heart first stop, then race on as if it wanted to escape this place, this city, this continent even.

That before, that moment last night, that had been my downfall. He'd been getting bored with me even before then, but when I failed to produce anything new, anything exciting, when I proved myself to be as plain and normal as any other ordinary human, he'd decided to toss me aside. He'd waited until the next morning, though, to let me know that he was done with me.

We had gone through the usual morning routine of exercising and beatings, Kilgraves entertainment while he ate his gourmet breakfast.

"That's enough, you can stop now, both of you.", he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw a sideways glance at us, me on the floor, the person whose home we were invading standing over me with raised fists.

"While I'm gone I want you two to fight until one of you dies. I want you to kill each other."

It should have been me who died. I was smaller, weaker, already injured. I was the one who had already given up, who didn't even care if she lived or died. Yet, it wasn't my blood dripping down the cabinets, forming puddles on the floor, that had colored part of my hair red.

I could barely feel my limbs anymore, wether due to the cold or shock, I couldn't tell. I had no sense of how long it had been since he'd left. It felt like an eternity. I couldn't tell wether I was awake or if I'd fallen asleep at some point, or when exactly the knife had slipped out of my hand.

Only when it had turned so dark I could barely see the red of the blood anymore, did I notice how much time really must have passed. He hadn't returned and by now I was sure he wouldn't.

My whole body was stiff and cold, any longer on that floor and _I_ could have passed as a corpse. I chuckled at my own morbid joke. I didn't even find it funny. I didn't want to laugh, but I couldn't stop. The laugh grew even louder until it turned hysterical, I was no longer laughing, but crying, screaming. I pressed my hands to my mouth, trying to muffle out the sound. It was the metallic taste of the blood, still on my hands, that drowned the noise. I only just made it to the sink before I threw up.

I was shaking even more now, bent over the kitchen sink, standing in a pool of blood, trying not to pass out. The hot water nearly burned my hands but it was the only thing that helped me to focus, to make a decision.

Slowly, very careful not to slip, I made my way to the bathroom, leaving a bloody trail behind me.

Turning the shower from hot to cold a few times helped me get a clearer head, and to keep another panic attack at bay. I scrubbed at my skin, my hair, my nails, trying to get the blood out. I spent nearly 5 minutes scrubbing at my left forearm before I realized that the blood was my own, streaming from a cut I hadn't noticed until now.

I don't exactly remember how I got out of the shower or when I bandaged up the cut and got dressed, or where I even found the clothes. But all of a sudden I was startled by my own reflection in the hallway mirror. I'd thought that someone had come in, I didn't recognize myself. I was holding a garbage bag, the smell of bleach stung my nose and I noticed that my hair had almost completely dried. There was a wallet on the dresser next to me with some cash in it. The messenger bag from the front closet was big enough to fit the garbage bag and the beige coat I found was long enough to cover me almost completely. I rapped a scarf around my neck and hid my hair under the only cap I could find. I eyed the stranger in the mirror carefully, from the black pumps, to the huge coat and ashy face staring at me. How did I possibly end up here?


	4. Chapter 4

Afterward, I couldn't remember how exactly I made it out of the building and into the cab, nor where the garbage bag ended up. Only when the driver asked me for the address did I pause to think. I told him the only address I could remember, the only one I knew in New York.

"Are you all right, Miss?"

I could see the worry in his eyes. I must look worse than I thought, worse than what I'd detected in the dark hallway, back in the apartment. I'd only seen the busted lip and the shadow of a bruise forming on my right cheek. But from the look I got through the rearview mirror, I must look quite a bit worse.

"I'm fine, trust me. I'm alright."

"Are you sure? Did someone do this to you?"

"I'm fine, really. The person that did this to me is gone … Out of my life.", I tried a reassuring smile that reopened the cut on my lip, making me taste blood, again. I inhaled sharply and cracked the window to keep from throwing up, again.

"You should go to the police. This isn't right."

"I _am_ going to someone, not the police, a private investigator. I have been working with her to get prove that my boyfriend is abusive. Well, ex-boyfriend. Without prove the police can't do much. And this.", I pointed at my face, "This should be prove enough."

He looked at me, made sure I was sincere, "Good. People shouldn't get away with hurting one another."

"No they shouldn't", I muttered under my breath.

"Here we are."

I handed him the money and scrambled out of the car. He watched me as I walked towards the building, made sure I was inside before he drove off.

As the elevator doors closed on me I realized that I had no clue what floor the office was on. I starred at the panel for a while before deciding to just push the every button.

I could see the sign on the glass window from the elevator and just managed to slip out before the doors closed again. I heard them shut and the bustling of the elevator moving further up.

I hesitated, unsure what to do, halting after every step I took, wanting to but somehow unable to turn back. Standing in front of the door, my hand was raised to knock, but I stopped. I had no right to be here, I had no right to bother this woman, this stranger. She didn't know me and only because one person had ruined both our lives didn't mean we were connected. I didn't even know if Kilgrave had ruined her life the way he had crushed mine. Maybe she had just managed to get past what he'd done to her. Maybe she had really been stronger than me. Maybe she had already started to heal, to rebuild her life. If that was the case, me visiting her in the middle of the night, bloody and bruised was the last thing she needed. I lowered my hand and took a step back. This had been a bad idea. I should have gone straight home instead of coming here. Cursing under my breath I made my way back down the hall to the elevator.

"Hey!", I stopped dead, "I don't appreciate people lurking outside my door in the middle of the night."

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to. I got the wrong address. Really sorry to bother you.", I started walking again, hurrying towards the elevator, keeping my back toward her.

"Hey! Hey! Just stop for a second.", I could hear her moving closer. I reached out and hammered my fist onto the elevator button, still not daring to turn around.

"Just stop, will you? Hey! Stop!"

I lunged into the elevator and slammed the first button I could find. Her foot kicked the closing doors back open, she grabbed onto my left arm with an iron grip.

"What the hell was that? Who are you? Who sent you?", She jerked me around to face her, "Jesus! What happened to your face?"

"Nothing. Nothing. It's fine. No-Nobody sent me. I just got the wrong address, that's all. I really didn't mean to bother you and I.."

"Fine? You call this fine? Half your face is busted. You're not fine. And wrong address my ass. You were standing outside my door for almost 5 minutes."

"Really, I'm okay.", I winced, "Could you just let go of my arm, please? You're hurting me!", my vision started to get blurry, I could feel the heat wallow up, my ears felt like someone was pressing cotton balls to them.

"Not until you tell me ..o s..t ..u. Hey! Wh..'s wr..g wi.. .ou?"

"Shit!", it all went black.


	5. Chapter 5

— [Jessica's POV] —

The girl in the elevator dropped like a stone.

"Great.", Jessica picked the lump of a body off the floor and threw her over one shoulder.

Kicking the door shut behind her, Jessica looked around for a place to load the girl off. There was only her bed or the couch and she wasn't going to share a bed with someone she didn't know, at least not without them buying her a drink first.

With a thump the body dropped onto the couch. Her cap had fallen off on the way to the apartment and even more bruises showed. Jessica looked at the pale figure in front of her, it looked like whoever she was, had gone through hell.

When Jessica examined her coat, she noticed that one of the sleeves, were she'd held on to the girls arm, had started to turn red. Removing the coat revealed more men's clothes underneath. The girl was wearing a dress-shirt and pants several sizes too big. The sleeve underneath the coat was soaked in blood, tearing it was the only way to get to the bandage underneath. The bandage was stuck to the wound, Jessica had no other choice but to rip it off. The girl was still out cold.

Taking a look at the cut, Jessica realized that it needed to be patched up again, but there were neither fresh bandages nor anything to clean the wound with anywhere in the apartment. The only thing Jessica could think of was to rip off the other sleeve and use that. She still had to sterilize the cut as well as the newly found bandage. Looking around the room her eyes fell on the half empty bottle of whiskey standing on top of her desk.

"You owe me one." she took a generous sip before pouring the rest first over the makeshift bandage, then over the wound.

"Fucking hell!", at leased she was awake now.

"Hold still, I gotta tie that up first."

"Oh.. thanks. Wait, what happened? Did I faint? Oh shit! I fainted, didn't I?", She buried half her face in her free hand, embarrassment brought a little bit of color back to her cheeks.

"Yup, you fainted.", Jessica sat back onto her heels, looking closely at the person in front of her. "Now why don't you tell me what the hell happened to you? Start at the beginning."

— [Kates POV] —

I looked down at my arm, avoiding Jessicas eyes. "I didn't know where else to go … I don't know anybody in New York .. and after what happened … I didn't know who else to turn to."

"What happened?", there was an urgency in her voice that made me look up, she fixed me with a stare. I sat up straight, holding her gaze. There was no use in lying. She already knew what I was going to say.

"Kilgrave .. He - He made me do things, things I didn't want to do … He made me kill someone.", I only whispered the last part, looking back down at my hands, feeling my eyes burn with tears.

"Hey. Look at me! What's your name?"

"Katherine."

"Look at me, Katherine. What happened, whatever you did, whatever _he_ made you do, it's not your fault, okay? I want you to say it. It's not _your_ fault.", I looked up at her, there was panic in her eyes.

"But it is! _I_ killed someone, _me_! Not him. Me! I murdered someone in their own apartment, in their own home!"

" _He_ made you do it! It wasn't your choice! Listen to me, it's not your fault! None of it is!"

"If it weren't for me, that man would be alive right now!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes I do! If I hadn't happened to him, if I hadn't come into his life, he would still _have_ a life!"

"Katherine, stop! Okay? Just stop!", I looked up to meet her eyes, the eyes of someone about to drown, desperately reaching for a lifeline. She broke eye contact, sighed. "Then answer me this. Would you have killed him? If you had your own free will. Would you have done it?"

"NO!"

"Then it's not your fault."

We stared at each other, now standing only a few feet apart. Tears were silently rolling down my cheeks. I blinked rapidly, trying to get them to stop, sinking back down onto the couch.

I felt exhausted, all the energy was drained from my body, all that remained was pain. I just wanted to sleep, sleep and not wake up.

"You should get some sleep. Stay here if you want."

"No. No. It's alright. I'm fine. I should go. I shouldn't have bothered you in the first place. I'll…"

"You can barely keep your eyes open. Stay here, it's not like you're the only one of Kilgraves victims crashing here tonight. Got a junkie detoxing on my bathroom floor. Try not to step on him when you use the toilet."


	6. Chapter 6

My head was throbbing, my muscles acing, every centimeter of my body seemed to hurt, most of all my arm. Yesterday must have been another brutal "work-out", even worse than usual from the state of my body. I didn't open my eyes, I didn't want to, I didn't dare to. Because then I had to get up, had to face him, again, and again, and again.

The longer I lay there, the worse my arm started to hurt, until it was the only thing on my mind. Sure, Kilgrave had tortured me, or better had me tortured gruesomely before, but this was a whole new level. He had never actually pierced my skin, beaten it black and blue, yes, but never cut. But that's what the pain in my arm was, from a cut.

My stomach dropped, along with the realization where I was, what had happened, what I'd done. I stumbled up off the couch, half blind, toward the bathroom. I nearly dripped over the guy on the floor. My knees slammed into the tiles, I gaged, but at that point, there was nothing left in my stomach that I could throw up. I slowly led myself slide down the toilet onto the cool floor, pressing the fairly unbruised side of my face onto the ground. Closing my eyes didn't help, it only made things worse, all I saw was red.

"Rough night?", I lifted my head slightly, the junkie was looking at me, looking as crapy as I felt.

"You could say so. You?"

"Had better.", we both sat up, I leaned my back against the toilet, he propped himself up against the bathtub. "So … Kilgrave, huh?"

"Mhm … He the one who … who did this to you?", I felt slightly ashamed asking that kind of question.

"It … It's complicated."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to probe … So … You live here then? In New York, I mean."

"Yeah … have for a while now … How 'bout you? You're not from here, are you?"

"No, not anywhere near here … Not even from this continent, in fact … I'm from Europe."

"Figured. Britain, right?"

"Actually no..", I hesitated, unsure if I should go on. The last thing I wanted to do was to reveal anything about myself to a complete stranger, not again, not when I had a choice.

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I'm not gonna force you to do anything, I know how that feels."

"It's just … I want to protect my family, keep them out of this as much as possible.", I looked at him more closely. He didn't look threatening and my gut was telling me I could trust him, but then again, my gut hadn't been that reliable lately, especially when it came to keeping food down.

"Sorry to interrupt your lovely chat but breakfasts ready and I gotta pee, so up.", Jessica uncuffed the guy and threw both of us out of the bathroom.

We stood around in the hallway for a while, uncertain what to do.

"Breakfast, I guess.", I followed him into the kitchen.

Breakfast consisted of coffee and bread with peanut butter. Only looking at the food made my stomach revolt and, whoever he was, didn't look like he wanted to dig in either.

"I'm sorry. I completely forgot to ask for your name. I'm Katherine."

"Malcolm, nice to meet you.", we shook hands awkwardly and proceeded to stand around the kitchen.

"Couch?", I suggested since the smell of the coffee was making me nauseous and the bathroom was still occupied.

"Sure."

We sat down on the sofa and stayed there, starring blankly ahead in continued awkward silence.

"Not hungry?", Jessica walked over to her desk, pulled out a bottle of Bourbon and poured some into a coffee mug.

"Don't really feel like eating.", Malcolm agreed with an incoherent noise, "I really should be going.."

"Not looking like that. You'll attract too much attention walking around New York all beaten up in some guys clothing. Plus, half of your stuff is soaked in blood. You need to change first.", she pushed herself off the desk and walked into her bedroom. I followed, hesitantly.

"Here.", she held out a bunch of shirts, handing them to me, "Try these on, see if one fits." she walked over to the window, turning her back to me, giving me some privacy.

I threw the clothes onto the bed and unbuttoned the torn dress shirt, letting it drop onto the floor.

"I'm really not that good at all this feelings crap, you know, talking about them and stuff…", Jessica was still looking out the window, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"Don't worry.. neither am I."

"Hm … But, would you want to.. you know.. talk about what happened?"

I stopped for a second to think, halfway into the shirt, stuck. "No … not really.. not now, not yet.", I pulled the shirt off again, grabbing the next one.

Jessica behind me inhaled sharply, "Did he do that to you?"

She must have turned around, caught a glimpse of my back, just as bruised as my face. Not all of them were fresh, some had already started to fade, making for a very interesting pattern on my skin.

I scoffed, "Not personally, no. He doesn't do his own dirty work. But yes, these are all courtesy of Kilgrave."

 _I could see him examining my back tracing the marks with his fingers, his lips._

 _"Modern Art. Living Modern Art. Ever changing, never quite the same, but beautiful none the less.", he'd press his fingers into my skin until the mark disappeared, watching it slowly resurface, over and over, until he'd touched every last one of them._

 _"Purple. Hmmm. My favorite color.", he pressed his lips to the last bruise, freshly formed, not more than a day or two old, making it turn white, making me suffer with pain and shame and disgust._

I shook, trying to force the memory out of my mind. He'd violated my body, beaten and raped me, and he'd violated my already fragile mind, taken hold of it and used it as a toy. I'd been his plaything and once he'd gotten sick of me he'd tossed me aside, left me broken and bruised to die, or at least, to get framed for murder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I will be.", I threw on the next shirt, it fit.


	7. Chapter 7

"I called the hotel, told them you were in a car crash and just got released form the hospital. They still have your luggage, some of the valuables might be missing, but at least you'll have your passport back."

"Thank you, really! I don't know what I would have done without you. Probably gone to the police and gotten myself arrested, you know, murderer and all that.", I scoffed, Jessica raised an eyebrow at me, but said nothing.

"Alright then, I'll be off. Thanks again, for everything.", I turned to Malcolm laying face down on the couch. "It was really nice meeting you.. Hang in there.", he led out a muffled sound, that probably meant something along the lines of "goodbye".

Jessica and I starred at each other in silence. There was nothing I could say to her that she didn't already know. She knew Kilgrave had to pay, that he had to die and that she was the only one who could do it. Saying anything of that to her wouldn't help.

"I wish I could do something, but I'm afraid I'll just be in the way." There was so much more I wanted to express but couldn't find the words to. All I could muster up was a helpless smile.

"Yeah, probably. It's better this way, you'll be safer."

I walked a few steps toward the elevator, zipping up the jacket she'd given me. "I'll get your things back to you as soon as I can.", she watched as I got into the elevator, watched the doors close.

There hadn't been any problems with the people at the hotel, just as Jessica'd predicted. They'd taken one look at me and my messed up face and changed there hostile tone in a second. They'd rushed around, bringing me something to drink, offering me their deepest apologies, making sure I was comfortable while I waited, all the while avoiding looking directly at me. I was back in the cab in less than 10 minutes, my bag in one hand, my passport in the other, clutching onto it for dear life.

I'd just missed the bus that would take me back to university, the next one would leave in about 40 minutes. I bought the ticket and sat down in the waiting area, watching people rush by. I was still half expecting the police to turn up at any moment to arrest me, but Jessica'd assured me that it would take some time until they'd even found the body. They would though, eventually, along with enough of my own blood to paint a very clear picture. They'd probably also find lots of finger prints. Prints that would lead them directly to me. Not right away maybe, they'd most likely check the criminal database first, but they'd find me eventually, since every legal immigrant had to scan their prints upon arriving to the U.S.

I cursed and hind my face in my hands. The bruises still hurt, I could feel the heat radiating off of them. I didn't even know how bad they really looked. I'd only caught glimpses at myself, but never gotten a clear picture. There was a ladies room right next to the waiting area. I could just walk in and look in the mirror, I might even be able to use some of the makeup I'd gotten back with my bag to cover them up.

I could feel people starring at me, wondering what happened, judging me with my messy hair and ill-fitting borrowed clothes. I dug out my makeup bag, threw the rest of my luggage into a locker and disappeared into the restroom.

It was worse than I'd thought. Half my face was discolored and raised, most of it on my left side, along with the cut on my lower lip that had swollen up quite significantly. No amount of makeup could possibly cover that up, there would still be swollen lumps distorting my face and hinting at the beating I'd taken. Still, I opened up my foundation and began applying it to my face, realizing what a big mistake this had been the second my fingers touched my skin. Trying to pad in your makeup was not the best idea when half of your face was bruised. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but even the slightest touch sent shooting pains to my head. Now I was in even more pain and my face looked even stranger. There were patches of foundation surrounded by a sea of angrily throbbing flesh. Trying to wipe the foundation off proved to be an even worse plan.

"Shit! Fucking hell!", tears started running down my splotchy cheeks, leaving wet trails behind. "Why me? Why does it always have to be me? Why can't I just once get a fucking break? Just once, for fucks sake!" My whole body started shaking, I could barely see and all I wanted to do was crawl in a hole and die.

"Fuck.", apparently there was a way I could possibly look worse, adding red puffy eyes to my look didn't help.

A couple of handfuls of cold water helped ease the pain and bring down the swelling around my eyes a bit, but I still looked terrible. I got concerned glances from the women coming into the restroom, luckily no one had witnessed my meltdown. One of them even asked if I was alright, I could see from her body language that she was clearly more scared of me than for me and only talked to me out to fear, since we were the only once currently in the ladies room. I assured her that I was fine and she hurried up and fled, without drying off her hands.

In the end I did manage to cover some of the bruises up, emptying out my concealer in the process and having to rush to my bus, since the whole bathroom drama had taken a lot longer than I thought.

The only free seat was next to some young guy in a suit that eyed me suspiciously as I sat down. He made a face as he saw mine, but that didn't stop him from starring at my ass as I tried to store my bag overhead, that also was the reason why I kept the jacket on, despite being really hot. Not look but only temperature wise, of course. He did try to strike up a conversation, at first, but after I pretended not to understand him he gave up, muttering something about foreigners under his breath instead.

Sitting there, on the shaking bus, my stomach began to act up again, not just because of my motion sickness, but also because I hadn't eaten anything in a while. Even after Kilgraves diet had shrunk my stomach to what felt like the size of a shot glass and the nauseating things that had happened in the last 36 hours, I still managed to feel hungry. I tried to subdue the growling by pressing my arms into my tummy and crouching over, but I couldn't cancel out the increasing protest of my empty stomach. It got so loud that even the people around me started noticing, commenting rather rudely on it. The guy next to me shoot me a nasty look and pressed himself closer to the window, away from me. Remaining in that position for the rest of the ride.


	8. Chapter 8

I was glad when my stop came up, I could't have done another minute on that bus. The cold air helped settle my stomach a bit but did nothing to quite it down, nor did the smell coming from the diner opposite the bus stop.

People say shopping when hungry is bad, but try ordering when starving, or eating for that matter. My stomach wasn't prepared for this much food and didn't quite seem to know what to do with it, or when to tell me to stop. At least the pain I felt, after the first bites of food hit my empty stomach, helped distract from my aching face and arm.

Once my stomach had settled and my hands had stopped being busy, my mind was free to work, to worry. How was I supposed to just go back to university and pretend nothing had happened. Not just had I missed a whole chunk of class, but my entire world had been torn out by its roots and turned upside down. Nothing mattered anymore, the little things I used to obsess over seemed ridiculous when possibly facing murder charges. Some person, some stranger had made me spill out my guts to him and then proceeded to stomp all over them, before letting them just lay there to waste away, along with the rest of my body.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?", the waitress eyed me worriedly.

"Oh, yes, thank you. Could I get the cheque, please?"

I didn't want to go back, didn't want to face the consequences of my absence, and most of all didn't want to face my old life. It all seemed so small and insignificant in the face of recent events. But I had no choice. What else was I supposed to do? Run? With no money and no idea where to go? I couldn't do anything, especially not while Kilgrave was out there, while there still was a chance he could find me again, destroy what little was left of me.

The good thing about looking as crap as I did was that people are a lot easier on you, they feel sorry for you. Especially when you burst out in tears in front of them, even if they were more due to sleep deprivation and general exhaustion, than anything else. They also buy pretty much any story you serve them while crying hysterically and shaking so hard that they can't even understand half of what you tell them. They even feel so bad for you that they replace your student ID for you without a fee.

Finally back in my dorm room, I could barely remember what exactly it was I'd told them and my head had started hurting again, along with the rest of my body. I crawled into bed fully clothed and hid under the blanket. After a while I could hear my roommate coming in. I pretended to be asleep, the last thing I wanted to do was to have to explain myself to her.

I could hear her going to bed, saw the light go out and listened to her breath slow down while she drifted off to sleep. I was awake, my mind racing along with my heart. All I wanted was to sleep, yet, I was wide awake. Every time I closed my eyes I was back in New York, back with Kilgrave, back on the floor of that kitchen. So I lay there, eyes open, staring at the wall trying to force myself to think of something else, something other than the last two weeks, it was of no use. I had to get up, had to move, distract myself, occupy my body to keep my mind from torturing me with the same images, over, and over, and over again.

The hallway was completely empty. I had no clue what time it was, 2 maybe 3 in the morning. I saw nobody else on my way outside. Standing in front of the building I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my mind and stomach. I started walking, tried to calm my heartbeat, tried to concentrate only on breathing slowly, steadily, counting out my breaths until they fell into rhythm with my feet.

Is this how it was going to be from now on? Was this my new life? As an even worse emotional wreck than before? How was I possibly going to function, to finish my degree? I laughed, out loud, at myself. I wasn't going to finish my degree anyways, I doubt they let you do that in prison, since that was where I was heading. It was only a matter of days, until the police would arrive, until they'd take me away to face trial for murder. I would end up like that other girl on the news, he one that killed her parents, the one that claimed someone else made her do it.

I stopped, feeling as though someone had pulled the ground from underneath me. I hadn't believed it before, hadn't made the connection, it was him, he'd done the same thing to her too, turned her into a murderer. How many others were there? Serving time for his crimes? He had to pay, pay for all the lives that he ended, all the minds he'd destroyed, he had to be brought to justice. Damn it, I wished he would be the one framed for my murder, that it would be his blood and fingerprints they'd find in the apartment, not mine. But that wasn't going to happen, now was it? Because that's all it was, wishful thinking, nothing more.


	9. Chapter 9

They found the body the next day. His name had been Liam Cooper, he'd only just turned 32. They had no suspects at the moment, but were confident that the forensic clues found at the crime scene would provide vital clues as to what had happen.

I spent the next days in a kind of haze, jumping at every loud noise, expecting my imminent arrest. I had been allowed a sick day, so that my face was slightly more presentable again. The doctor on campus had taken a look at my injuries, bandaged up the cut and given me painkillers for my head. The swelling had gone down a bit by the time I went back to class, the bruises were still there, however, along with my busted lip.

I had a hard time paying attention in class not just because I'd missed quite a bit. My head still hurt and I couldn't focus on what the professor was saying for very long before my mind started to drift again. I wished I would be able to focus better, to understand what the hell he was talking about, to have at least this one thing work out for me. Only at the end of our lesson did I even begin to comprehend anything, he slowly began to make sense again. Giving me a little glimmer of hope for, what probably were going to be my last days at university.

I managed to keep my mind occupied by spending all my free time catching up in the library. This kept me distracted enough to spent the majority of my waking hours in some peace. At least until the weekend. There was only so much reading to do before I ran out. I started pulling random books from the shelves, reading about mathematical theories and brushing up on my history, just to not have to be alone with my thoughts.

By Monday morning, my nerves were completely shot, there had been no news on the murder of Mr Cooper, not yet. At first I'd avoided looking the case up online, until Saturday afternoon. I decided I would rather like to know when I was going to be arrested, than be surprised. Which was the reason I'd been the first person in the library on a Monday morning, checking for an update.

I had to read the article four times, check the sources just as often, before I allowed myself to believe my own eyes. They were looking for a man. The DNA found in the apartment had been male. The fingerprints hadn't turned up a match. They were asking the public for help.

This couldn't be true. There was no way they'd just overlooked my DNA or fingerprints, they had to have been everywhere. But there it was, in every newspaper, on the official police page, the murderer of Liam Cooper was most likely a man.

For the next few days I kept thinking it had only been a trick to deceive the real killer, expecting the police outside my door, entering the classroom or the library at any second to arrest me. But nothing happened.

Something didn't feel quite right, there must be something else going on. Even the most unqualified of police officers should have been able to determine that there had been a woman present in the apartment at some point, blood, hair, every other possible source of DNA evidence must have been present all over the apartment. How could they have missed all that? The only explanation I could come up with, was that someone had altered the evidence, that someone didn't want me to go down for murder. But who could it possibly be?


	10. Chapter 10

More than a week had passed when I finally started to relax, to get back into my old routine, my old life again. I still had nightmares, but not as many anymore. There were even nights I caught a few hours uninterrupted sleep.

Once most of my injuries had healed I started taking courses in martial arts, Krav Maga, Taekwando, and any self defense class I could find. Not only did it provide a distraction during the times I wasn't studying, in classes or sleeping, it also helped me to sleep better. But most of all, it gave me some illusion of being able to defend myself. It wouldn't help against Kilgrave, I knew that. Still, it eased my mind a little. I wasn't completely helpless anymore, at least once I had a lot more practice and built up some strength.

Krav Maga was especially hard and it didn't help that one of the instructors had made me her personal enemy. I was too weak, too slow, too everything. I tried going to the gym on my time off, tried to put on muscles but only ended up upsetting the few I did have. I got so frustrated that I started debating not going back, to just give up.

Why does one have to learn everything in such a hard way? Wouldn't it be much more fun if things came naturally to you? That would be a great superpower to have, to be able to learn everything without any effort at all. God, I wished I had that ability, not just for physical activities, also for anything I read, watched or heard. But as my last night with Kilgrave had proven, I was completely without abilities, a lowly human, with terrible headaches, apparently.

I'd had quite a few headaches lately, more than usual. The last time it had been this bad was right after coming back from New York, that night I went for a walk because I couldn't sleep. I had to go back to my dorm room because I my head hurt so baldy I could barely see, let alone think. Sure, I'd been hit in the head a few times during my "exercise routine", but the really bad headaches only started after I got back. I should probably get that checked, some time. Not now, though, I certainly didn't have the money to see a doctor merely because of a headache.

Still, I kept an eye out for warning signs, lack of focus or concentration, difficulties learning and retaining new information, but that all worked fine. Better than fine even. I wasn't exactly stupid to begin with, in fact I sometimes even thought of myself as smart. Lately, however, I'd been especially quick when studying. Either the texts were getting easier or I'd just gained a few IQ points. It wasn't even limited to my field of studies. Saturday afternoon at the library I got so bored, having finished all my homework, reading and preparation for all my courses, I started pulling out books at random, trying to occupy my mind with something else. Strangely, they'd made sense. Granted, they were chemistry books and I'd always had had a nag for chemistry, but this was far beyond my high school level knowledge. I got so spooked by my newfound ability to comprehend what had been utter nonsense to me before, that I closed the book, shoved it back into the cupboard, grabbed my stuff and rushed back to my dorm room, spending the rest of the day lounging around and binge-watching cooking shows, eating ramen noodles, instead.

Sunday I went out for a run, trying to clear my head. Usually my body stopped cooperating after around 20 minutes, but today I managed to pace myself, jog for nearly 45 minutes without even breaking a sweat. The only thing I did get was a small headache that went away after a while. My vigorous fitness routine was finally showing some results, I even managed to go to the gym afterwards and lift some weights.

Given that I had done something healthy all morning I decided to spend my afternoon with some cookies and a marathon of a great British baking show. I felt almost happy, normal even, sitting there, a cookie in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, watching lovely people baking amazing creations.


	11. Chapter 11

I know that it's a cliche in books, movies and the like to say "I should have known then that it was to good to last", but hear me out. Because that is exactly the way my life usually went. For example: The one time I was about to finally be together with my crush, after months of texting and flirting, my dog died, then my grandmother and finally my great aunt, her on my birthday, throwing me into a downward spiral I didn't want to pull anybody else down with me. Or the day of my prom, the one I'd been preparing for and looking forward to for weeks, I had to put down my cat of 10 years.

So, as you can see, good things, at least in my life, tend to come at a price. Which is why I'm usually more skeptical whenever I feel too happy. Or that could just be my depression talking, either way, I should have known.

It all started the following week, at Krav Maga, of course. After such a productive weekend I felt rather good going back into class. The second I stepped through the door I could feel her glaring eyes on me. She'd obviously thought I would have quit the class, after last time. The fact that I was determined to stick around made her resent me even more. Now she was determined to bully me out of the group, teaching us especially tricky moves, paring me up with the largest people and constantly commenting on my poor performance.

The thing is, my performance was perfectly fine, great even, I picked up every move she showed us, even managed to somewhat stand my ground against my opponents. This of course infuriated her even more.

Tobias, the other instructor, who'd been only silently disapproving until now, decided to step in when it came to one on one training. He'd told me to go easy, practice the moves, to just try to block some of his, nothing more. And that's how we started off. I'd make a move, he'd block it and counter, at first slowly, to give me time to react, then quicker, as I managed to keep up with him. It was easy, almost like dancing, one of the few physical activities I was good at. At first, his moves were passive, defending himself rather than attacking me, but after I managed to sneak a punch by him he started increasing his speed, actually attacking. It still felt like a dance to me, a very fast, violent dance, but a balanced one. We'd fallen into a rhythm that steadily increased, just waiting for one to miss a step, and I did. He'd used a move on me I'd never seen before, throwing me onto the floor, where I lay breathing heavily in complete silence.

Nobody else was fighting, they hadn't been for the last few minutes. Toby and my little duet had drawn the attention of the entire room on us. Who had ever before seen a newbie manage to keep up with a professional?

The second I lifted my head my eyes locked with hers. She was furious, red spots were creeping up her neck to her face. Nothing good could come of this.

She stomped over to us as Toby helped me on my feet, congratulating me on a great match and my amazing improvement. She built herself up in front of me, ordering that she would now be my new opponent. It wouldn't have surprised me if steam had started billowing out of her nostrils, so mad was she.

Not that I'd exactly had a choice in the matter, but I accepted anyway, curious to see what would happen.

Her style of fighting was completely different from Tobias'. She didn't bother with defense, nor with holding back. Every blow contained her full power, stricken to ensue maximum damage, if it had hit the target. I blocked her every move, just waiting for an opening to get a few punches of my own in, it didn't take long. As powerful as her attacks were, they also wore her out pretty quickly, forcing her to slow down, giving me a chance to counter. My body knew what to do before my brain did, I didn't have time to think before making a move, it was pure instinct.

I might not be as strong as she was, but I was faster, still had most of my energy and the rage that fueled her made her careless. The fight was over before even I realized it. Her last move had been too open, leaving her core exposed, giving me a chance to strike. She stumbled back, off the mat, defeated.

I looked around, again nobody else was fighting, again they were starring at us, or rather me. I spotted Toby, he looked confused, his mouth standing slightly open but then breaking into a smile as he gave me two thumbs up.

I smiled back hesitantly. I was about to walk over to him when it all went black. The last thing i heard before I went down was the sound of my nose breaking.


	12. Chapter 12

I'd had a strange dream. I was back at my parents' house, but it had been completely empty. I couldn't find anyone, anywhere. The more I looked, the more rooms seemed to appear out of nowhere. I looked even more frantically, hasting trough room after room until I found myself running down an unknown hallway into an open kitchen, the kitchen, Liam Coopers kitchen.

It was empty too, dark, only lit by the lights from the city outside. I could hear voices, his voice, Kilgraves voice, talking to someone in the bedroom. I could hear her answer, my own voice, but I couldn't understand what I was saying. I tried getting closer to hear better, but the further I got, the harder it became to move and see. My vision began to fade, I started blinking rapidly, trying to make out the room in front of me. I could only see fractions. A few seconds later it went completely dark, but I could still hear, hear him walk toward the door, toward me.

My body froze, I couldn't run or move at all, blinded, standing in the middle of the living room. I heard the door open, heard his footsteps as he moved toward me.

His hand closed around my upper arm, sending shockwaves of fear through my still paralyzed body. My heart began to race, all my instincts were telling me to run, to flee as fast as I could, _while_ I still could, while he hadn't spoken, hadn't taken hold of my mind yet.

He moved closer, grabbing my other arm, holding me in his iron grasp. I could feel his breath on my neck, my ear, making me want to turn away, to throw up, to punch him, all but stand there motionless, like a sheep ready for slaughter.

"Katherine." My whole body repulsed, struggling against the invisible chains holding me rooted to the spot.

"Katherine.", even closer, just a whisper. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, his cheek nearly touching mine, his lips only inches away from my ear.

"Katherine. Wake up!", I was jerked back into reality, back onto the mat, back into my actual body. The pain hit me like a hammer, right on the nose, radiating outward across my entire face.

"Katherine! Can you hear me?" it was Toby, somewhere near my head, holding on to both of my arms, shaking me softly.

I gave a groan, to signal that I was conscious. It took a second to focus my eyes, I saw Tobys face hovering over mine, pale. A little further away were the rest of the group. Some huddled around me, the rest off to the side, surrounding her. She looked pale too, as she was trying to defend herself, saying she'd thought we were still fighting, that she didn't mean to hit me, that it wasn't her fault.

"Oh shut the fuck up, Lydia! That was a sucker punch and you know it! You hit her in the face with your god damn elbow while she had her back to you, that was no accident!", So that's what it had been, an elbow, felt more like a truck to me.

"She didn't have her back to me. How could I even hit her in the face if she had her back to me?"

"Are you seriously arguing with me with now? She'd clearly turned away from you. I'd call that having her back to you!"

"Well then she shouldn't have turned away in the middle of a fight."

"The fight was already over! She won. She pushed you off the mat. There was no more fight!"

"She mer…" I interrupted them, clearing my throat.

"Did anybody call a doctor, because I'm pretty sure all that blood means my nose is broken."

"Yes, yeah we called 911. They should be here soon. How are you feeling? Do you want to sit up?" he let go of my arms, offering me his hand instead.

I sat up slowly, my head still spinning. Somebody handed me a towel to press against my nose. Nobody spoke, all you could hear was the nervous shuffle of feet and an occasional sigh.

The paramedics confirmed that my nose was indeed broken and took me and Toby, who'd insisted upon coming along, off to the hospital.

We sat in the waiting room, him still pale, me pressing a piece of cloth, the paramedics had given me, to my still bleeding nose. They'd taken X-rays and were now waiting for a doctor to take a look at them. It had been 3 hours. Three hours of worrying how in earth I was going to pay for all this. I briefly toyed with the idea of robbing a bank, considering my newfound talents in martial arts, but given my current condition, that might not be the smartest plan. Thinking about it, as far as my pounding headache allowed such a thing as thinking, they seemed rather strange, my new skills. Especially since I'd sucked at hand to hand combat just a week ago. There was a nagging feeling at the back of my head, but before I could find out what if was about, probably only due to my nose, I was called into an examination room.

The good thing was, that it had been a clean break and would be easily fixed. The bad thing was the face my doctor pulled, when I told her about the headaches I'd been having. And the even worse thing will be my medical bill, after the MRI my doctor insisted on. But non of these trump the news of the day, the sucker punch from life itself.

"A brain tumor. Right there, see?", I didn't really, but I doubt doctors tend to joke about such things as terminal as a tumor. Because that's what it was, terminal, or "inoperable" as she called it.

There was a silver lining to all this though. I wouldn't actually have to worry about my medical bill after all. For one I now had the option to sue Lydia for almost killing me and even if that didn't work, it's not like I would stick around long enough for them to collect the money from me.

Seems like life had found a way of getting back at me, for surviving New York. As I said, I should have known.


	13. Chapter 13

They scheduled another MRI to see how fast the tumor was growing, to be able to tell me more accurately how much time I had left. I doesn't really matter, what would a few more months or maybe years really do for me? I was dead no matter what.

I'd love to say that the certainty of my imminent death opened my eyes and made me pledge to spend the time I had left meaningfully, like you see in the movies. People making a bucket list, taking risks, vowing to really living their life. But this wasn't a movie and this was me, after all. Me who rather spends her free time in front of my laptop, binge watching TV shows, than doing something meaningful with her life.

Knowing when I was going to die didn't change anything about this, it actually made it worse. What good was studying now? I wasn't going to be able to do anything with my degree anyways, not just because it was in English. Why bother doing anything if it would all be worthless in the end? So I spent the next days hauled up in my dorm room, watching years of television in the span of hours and eating only what didn't need to be cooked or prepared in any way, so mostly junk, or nothing at all. I thought about starving myself to death, ending it on my terms, but I was even too lazy to be self destructive. Also watching cooking shows didn't help.

Having a broken nose gave me an excuse to stay in. I didn't tell anybody about the tumor. The last thing I wanted was for people to feel sorry for me, or tell me what I should do with the short time I had left. I'd rather have people ignore me, call me lazy or stupid for wasting my mind on TV shows. It made me feel normal, healthy. I hadn't even told Tobias. Why would I? I didn't really know him. What good was it to tell him? It wouldn't make me or him feel better. It was best to leave him out of it, to leave everybody out of it, the fewer knew, the fewer were going to get hurt. It was easier that way. Why hitch someone to a wagon that was doomed to crash? Why get them hurt? It was better for me to be alone, for everyone.

The bad thing about binging shows was how fast you ran out of them. There were only so many food-themed series I could watch and right now no other genre appealed to me. I didn't want to bother with other peoples problems right now. As far as I was concerned, they could all fuck off.

Once I ran out of things to watch I was left alone with my own mind. My sick, broken mind that has decided to kill me, beyond the depression, anxiety and eating disorder, which hadn't finished the job fast enough, apparently. I was also running out of excuses to skip classes, a broken nose only gave you so many sick days before you had to go back to studying.

Needless to say my class participation dropped significantly and so did my attention. All I did was sit there, starring at the wall, keeping to myself. Most professors ignored me, I'd done enough to pass already, plus my face still looked quite bad, so they left me alone. One did get angry at me, told me off for not doing the required reading. I was fine with that, I knew how to deal with angry, what I couldn't deal with was the one professor asking me if everything was alright. She'd called me to her desk after class and with a very worried look addressed my recent behavior. I could feel the tears coming, the knot tying in my throat, making it harder to swallow, to talk. I didn't want to react this way. What was wrong with me? I hadn't been sad before. Why the hell was I acting this way now? I apologized for not paying attention, blamed it and my teary eyes on my broken nose giving me headaches and fled the room as soon as she let me.

I didn't go back to my room, having spent the last days cooped up in there, it was the last place I wanted to be right now. My feet had led me to the library before I realized where I was going. I walked past the desks all the way to the back of the building. I disappeared between the high rows of books and broke down. Balled up on the floor I let go, let everything out, all those hours of avoiding being sad, holding back those tears. I tried to muffle my sobs by pressing my scarf to my face, ignoring the pain shooting up my nose. By the time I'd calmed down my scarf was soaked and I felt empty.


	14. Chapter 14

I stayed on the library floor for quite a while, just laying there, starring at the books in front of me, not really seeing them. This couldn't be it, could it? The rest of my life? There must be something else. A reason for all this. There was always a reason.

I sat up, leaning against the shelf. I was in the philosophy section, all the way in the back, tucked away in a corner with the books barely anybody read. I pulled one out, began reading it, then stopped. Not because I couldn't understand it, but because I could. It made sense to me, but it shouldn't. I pulled out another one, bigger, more serious looking, opened it up in the middle and read. Why on earth was I able to understand this? This should be complete nonsense to me, part of my brain thought so too, but the rest understood every word I read, some of which I'd never even seen before.

I put the the books back and left the section, heading into the foreign language one with that nagging feeling again at the back of my mind.

My eyes fell on a French book to my right, I pulled it out and began reading. Then I pulled one out of the Spanish section, next one in Russian, then even one in Chinese. I could read them, not just read, but actually make sense of them. What the hell was going on? Why the fuck was my head hurting again? Was I hallucinating?

I left the library and hurried back to my dorm room, my head pounding and the strange feeling still at the back of my mind. All I wanted was to know what the hell was going on. What was happening to me? Why on earth could I read languages I had never learned. I took some painkillers and crawled into bed. This all, the last few weeks, they felt like a bad dream, a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. This couldn't possibly all be really happening, could it?

I dreamed I was in New York again. Back with Kilgrave, the night before the murder. We were talking about his powers. I could see myself on the bed, bruises all over my body. I could see him next to me, touching me, smiling. All I wanted to do was to beat the living crap out of him. I moved closer as they continued talking. I'd reached the foot of the bed when he suddenly looked up, straight at me. I froze, this wasn't supposed to happen, he shouldn't be able to see me, but he looked at me intently.

"Now pay attention, this is important.", he turned back to past me, continued their conversation.

"You mean, make _you_ reveal your powers, don't you? Doubt you have any at all. But all right, I'll give it a go. I order you to reveal any and all superpower you might possess or are yet to have, right now!"

I was no longer standing at the foot of the bed as an observer. I was now on the bed, in the place of my past-self. I could feel his eyes scanning me, waiting in anticipation for something to happen.

"Anything?"

"No.", I lied.


	15. Chapter 15

I woke up gasping for air, my mind racing. This hadn't just been a dream, dreams felt different. This had been something else. Something more meaningful. I tried remembering what had happened next but the more I tried the more it slipped away.

I got out of bed, threw my shoes and coat on and marched outside, out of my room, the building, until I was back in that park. There it was again, that nagging feeling. I was missing something, something big, something important. It was on the tip of my tongue but I couldn't spell it out.

Cursing out loud I walked frantically back and forth, trying to figure out what I was missing. It was as if my mind was working against me. I had a really hard time staying focused, my mind kept going back to the same images, the same moments, the same memories, keeping me from thinking clearly, from seeing the whole picture. It was like trying to swim against the current with both my arms tied behind my back.

The harder I tried, the more those images started pushing into my thoughts, taking over, until there was no choice but to give in. I sat down defeated and exhausted, letting them sweep over me.

Again, I was back at my last night with Kilgrave, back in that bedroom, having the same conversation, again.

 _"Tell me, Kate, I'm curious. Say you get to choose your own gift. What would your superpower be?"_

 _"I want to be able to change things with my mind, to control them."_

I was back here in this park, on my first day back from New York, with this thought running trough my mind: _I wished he would be the one framed for my murder, that it would be his blood and fingerprints they'd find in the apartment, not mine._

My mind jumped to the Monday after that, the day they'd revealed the suspect in Liam Coopers murder being a man. Could it be? No, that was impossible! The next memory popped into my head, my first day back in class:

 _I wished I would be able to focus better, to understand what the hell he was talking about._

I did have an easier time focusing after that.

There was more, more memories, more prove to what I already suspected.

 _Wouldn't it be much more fun if things came naturally to you? That would be a great superpower to have, to be able to learn everything without any effort at all. God, I wished I had that ability, not just for physical activities, also for anything I read, watched or heard._

This was it, this explained all of it. Why I was suddenly so good at fighting, why I could read those books, understand them. But it can't possibly be true, can it? I couldn't possibly have superpowers, could I?

Well, I could give it a try. As far as I could gather from those previous experiences I only had to wish for something in order for it to come true, right? It sounded way to easy, there must be a catch. Only one way to find out.

Have you ever had this problem when you really had to do something but the more you tried the less it worked? My mind was suddenly empty, I couldn't think of a single thing to wish for, nothing. I looked around, trying to find inspiration, but there was nothing. Could I even wish for something material? What if I did something wrong? Argh! Why was this so hard? This should be easy! I had, probably, been given the power to do anything I wanted with my mind and it was blank. This was so typically me. All I wanted was to be able to think of a great thing to test my potential new power on.

And there it was, healing. Being able to heal myself and others. Being able to control when, what and how fast I healed. That's what I wanted to use to test my powers. So, here we go.

"I wish I could possess the power of healing, to heal myself and others, to have full control over it."I waited, not sure what should happen. I didn't feel any different, apart from the massiv headache that was erupting in my head. I tried making it go away. Nothing, I might have even made it worse.

Well, so much for my hope of superpowers. I really was only a pathetic dying human. Worse, I was probably hallucinating, imagining that I could read books in foreign languages, understand philosophy ones. It was most likely the tumor acting up, pressing on some part of my brain. I should have known. Why would things change now? This was me we're talking about here, after all.


	16. Chapter 16

Authors note: Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! I'm trying to upload as much as I can, but it's finals season so I hope you forgive me if I'm a bit behind. Enjoy!

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Chapter 16:

After the disappointment with my almost-superpowers I felt even less motivated to do anything worthwhile with my life. Luckily, it was almost end of term and I was looking forward to some time alone.

The exams didn't go half bad, I had actually studied for some of the subjects, before my life had taken this unfortunate turn. I managed to pass, not brilliantly, that was for sure. But who could really expect me to give a damn about my no longer existing academic career now?

Sad thing is, I really hate self-pitying, at least when I did it, but that's all I'd been doing for the past week and a half, feeling sorry for myself. I should be out, celebrating life, blowing caution to the wind, having fun. Not sitting around in the same clothes for days, eating junk and hating life.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror after I came home from my last final. I looked disgusting. My hair was a greasy mess, my skin had broken out from my unhealthy diet and the bags under my eyes made me look twenty years older. No wonder I felt shitty, I hadn't exactly been taking care of myself lately. That was about to change.

Scrubbed clean, my skin moisturized and my hair washed I felt a lot better already. I put makeup on for the first time in weeks, careful not to hurt my still sensitiv nose, styled my hair and put on fresh clothes.

The one good thing about having eaten all that junk was that my old clothes nearly fit me again. I hadn't liked the way I'd looked before Kilgrave, but I hated the way I looked after. Even though, I seemingly reached my goal of finally loosing weight and being thin(-ish), it hadn't turned out to be what I thought it would. Not just because I saw his starring eyes every time I looked at myself, but it wasn't me anymore. I'd actually missed my old body, my wobbly tummy and thick thighs. That image of myself had been with me for so long, I'd known it by heart, every last imperfection. The one Kilgrave had created felt foreign to me. Not like my own body. But now I was finally starting to look more like myself again, I was taking back my life, my body and my mind. Now I was in control again.

All freshened up I didn't know where to go. The campus was almost empty, most people had gone on holidays over spring break or back home. The rest was either sitting in exam rooms or cramming at the last minute in their rooms or the library. I decided to go to the library too, there was no point in avoiding it any further, after my last tumultuous visit.

It was dead silent when I entered, the only sounds were the occasional rattling of paper and frantic breathing. Any loud noise was immediately punished by deadly starres and aggressive shushing.

As quietly as I possibly could, I made my way to one of the free benches, pulling out a book along the way to have an excuse for being here and to not completely look like a creepy lurker who watched people studying. Which is exactly what I was doing.

I pretended to study as well, pretended to read a paragraph in my book afterward looking up at a spot on the wall opposite me, mouthing nonsensical words while wrinkling my forehead and furrowing my brows, occasionally making a frustrated noise and pretending to reread a line. Every time I looked up I peered at the people out of the corner of my eyes. Most of them had their heads buried in books, frantically taking notes while silently reciting what they were writing down. Others were sleeping on their notes or starring blankly into space, only a handful where doing as I did, watching the people around them. One of them was watching me. I could feel their eyes on me, making me blush and look down at my book, avoiding looking at their direction at all costs.

I don't even know why I reacted the way I did. What was so bad about making eye contact with a stranger, that I forced myself to look everywhere else but in their direction? Why did someone looking at me make me so nervous? Was it the uncertainty of wether or not they found me stunning or hideous to look at? Or that I feared interactions of any kind where I wasn't completely sure what my role in the relationship was?

It would be so much easier if I knew what people were thinking, what their intentions were. I hated having to guess, to potentially embarrass myself in front of others, in front of strangers especially.

That would be another great superpower to have, mind reading. Not like in the movies where you can't control it and constantly have to hear what everybody's thinking until it drives you mad and into solitude. More like a radio that you can turn on and off at your own will, change the station, volume, all that. I would really like to be able to do that, it would make social interactions so much easier, or awkward, depending on what you heard.

I left the library again. I felt foolish being there without a real reason, plus being watched wasn't nearly as much fun as watching people. I walked around the empty campus for a while, catching some fresh air and having some time to think. Mostly about my future, however short it may be.

I couldn't continue like that, spiraling down into the dark pit of self loathing. I wasn't dead yet and the way it looked right now I might even be getting into quite a bit of money soon. I'd decided to sue Lydia and given that I was poor girl with a fatal tumor in her head, she was looking to settle this quickly and quietly. It was lucky that the girl who elbowed me in the face came from a very prestigious and wealthy family, whose oldest offspring was currently running some kind of political campaign and couldn't afford the bad press.

There still was a chance I could make my life mean something, leave something behind, other than utter chaos. I could use the money to help out my family back home, to help lots of people, but only if I got my act together. While I still had the time to do so.

The only question was. How much time exactly did I have left?


	17. Chapter 17

Well, I got the answer to that question sooner than I'd liked. Which is actually the answer as well, sooner than I'd liked, a lot sooner.

I could tell something was wrong from the MRI technicians face, but I had to wait for my doctor to confirm it. She looked awfully pale, stammering about, trying to explain to me that the months, they'd thought I still had were now only weeks. Given the rate the tumor had grown since my last MRI I was looking at a month, maybe two, at best. She scheduled another appointment the next week to give me a more accurate time frame and to make sure they hadn't miscalculated.

I felt sorry for her, it can't be easy to have to give people such bad news. I wanted to cheer her up somehow, but I didn't know how. She was probably more affected by the news than I was. I wasn't even sad, I just accepted it. I asked if there would be enough time to get my affairs in order and after she'd assured me that there was, I'd simply thanked her and left.

This time was different than first hearing about the tumor, less of a shock. I was already prepared, maybe even at piece with dying. After I'd left the hospital I called my lawyer, asked him to push for a quick settlement and made an appointment with him to discuss my will and what should be done with the money after I died.

I didn't call my family. That I didn't have the strength to do. I knew I would have to, eventually, but not now. Not while I wasn't absolutely certain that this was the end. Not until the MRI next week.

It was a tedious week, one of the longest in my entire life. I was almost completely alone on campus now, only once did I see another student and only for a few seconds. The rest of the time, I was on my own. I wandered around the empty library, took long walks and even visited the gym a few times. I avoided having to sit still for too long as much as possible since it literally felt like sitting on hot coals. Afterward I could barely remember what I did when, it had all mushed together into a blur.

When Tuesday finally came around so too did time, it was now moving way too fast, wanting to make up for slacking off the past 7 days, jumping from one hour to the next as if it were mere seconds. All of a sudden I was back in that room, waiting for my doctor to tell me the bad news.

"Well, I don't really know what to say… I looked at those images several times… I-I just can't explain to myself how this could have happened. How this is even possible!", I looked at her confused, waiting for an explanation.

She turned her monitor, showing me two scans of my brain. Both looked the same.

"Are those today's scans?" I tried to figure out what she was trying to tell me, but I hadn't exactly studied medicine, or a working knowledge of the human brain, to be able to be able to see the apparent error in the pictures.

"Yes and no… The right one is from today, the left one's from last week."

"But,.. they look identical, don't they?"

"Yes, that's the problem. There has been no change, at all, no growth, nothing. This shouldn't be possible. This can't be possible." she looked at me closely, I could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

"This means.. that our timeline.. Well, that it's not accurate anymore. According to this new scan, you still have plenty of time… You might even die of old age before the tumor has any chance to kill you. But… if we take your first scan into account… It just doesn't make sense! I.. I can't give you a definitive timeline. Not like this, not with those scans. I'm afraid you'll have to come in again in about a month, so we can figure out what went wrong."

A month? Last week a month could have been too late, I could have already been dead by then. Now I had no clue how long my life would go on for. As far as I knew, I could drop dead any second.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't it be straight forward, without twists and turns? I mean, what the fuck was going on here? What was this? Someone's stupid sadistic fantasy? Whoever had thought this up had some serious problems. I demand to know what is being played here! Why was I close to death one day and had my whole life in front of me the next? I want an explanation and I want it now!


	18. Chapter 18

If only it were so easy. If only you would actually get an answer, instead of having to spend your life in the dark, only really knowing the purpose of certain events when it's too late to change anything, to act.

All you get is night after night of having to relive the same moment, the same painful memory of your humiliation. Every night I woke drenched in sweat from the same nightmare. My last night with Kilgrave. The same conversation, over, and over, and over again. Until I knew it by heart, new every word, every one of his movements, every inch of my pain. There was no more rest, not for me.

I felt as if I was slowly going insane, having to do the same thing over and over again. Dreading going to sleep, wandering empty buildings and streets for hours so I wouldn't have to go back into that tiny room. So I wouldn't have to fall asleep.

Every now and then I came across another human being, mostly only in passing, never staying in the same room with them for longer than 2 minutes, never talking.

I missed being able to talk to someone, telling them how I felt, what I was going through. I caught myself dialing my home-number, my finger hovering over the button. I never actually pressed it, never called. I wouldn't know what to say, how to tell them what was going on. I wasn't strong enough.

The lack of sleep was slowly taking it's toll on me, I felt as if I was drunk, dropped almost everything I picked up, ran into things and constantly hurt myself. Knowing that, I'm still not sure why I thought it a good idea to handle knives, or any sharp objects for that matter. For some reason I'd convinced myself that I could chop vegetables without hurting myself, but the reality looked very different, bloody.

It took a while for my tired brain to realize that I'd just buried a knife in my left hand, instead of the carrot I had attempted to chop. I just stood there, in shock, blood seeping onto the cutting board, turning it red. I pulled the knife out, regretting my decision the next second, as the blood was now flowing uncontrollably. I tried stopping the flood with a dish towel, pressing it as hard as I could to my fingers, cursing in pain while I frantically looked for my phone, which of course, I couldn't find. I stubbed my toe hard on the corner of the counter, cursing even more furiously as I searched the kitchen. The towel was already soaked in blood, staining my hands red and dripping onto the floor.

"Just stop bleeding, for fucks sake! Shit!", I found my phone on the counter, next to the carrots.

Now I was faced with another problem. I needed both hands to stop the bleeding. How was I suppose to dial 911 with no hands free? I kept turning back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. I had no choice but to let go of the towel. I reached for the phone with my right hand, promptly dropping it onto the floor, were it shattered into it's individual pieces.

"Are you fucking kidding me?", I bent down trying to reassemble my phone, dropping the towel as well.

"Shit!"

I scrambled to grab another towel to stop the bleeding. All I could find was a dirty one I really didn't want to press to an open wound. Again, I ended up running around frantically, looking for some clean piece of cloth, holding my right hand under my left to catch the blood dripping down. Only, there was none dripping down.

I was afraid to look at my left hand fearing I wouldn't be able to take the sight and faint. There was a lot of blood, the metallic smell of it made my stomach turn, but none of it was fresh. I looked more closely, trying to find the wound among all the red. I couldn't find one, not even a scratch.

I carefully ran warm water over my left hand, trying to wash off some of the blood to get a closer look. I watched the water turn pink as it ran over my hand and down the drain. Pushing down the images bubbling up from the last time I'd washed blood off myself.

Only after there was no more blood coming off my hand did I dare to take a look. There was nothing, no cut, not a single sign that a knife had even come anywhere near my skin.

How on earth… But.. but, the blood! Where did all the blood come from? I checked my other hand, thinking I might have mixed them up, but there wasn't a scratch on it either. I must be going insane, probably hallucinating. Or I'd fallen asleep somewhere. No, I must be awake, there was no Kilgrave or bedroom in sight.

But if it wasn't a nightmare, what was it?

It had to have been real, I'd felt the pain, I couldn't have just imagined it. The feeling of a knife cutting your fingers wasn't something you can just make up in your head. And there wouldn't be all that blood otherwise. Because there really was a lot of blood. On the knife, the cutting board and of course the soaked towel on the floor.

Was my mind that far gone that I was hallucinating a bloodbath? Cleaning up the mess I was less and less convinced that this was merely a product of my imagination. I've always had a vivid imagination, but even I couldn't make this stuff up.

After everything was scrubbed clean I just sat there, starring at my hands, trying to figure out how this was possible. How could there have been so much blood but no wound? Unless there had been a wound and it had disappeared? But that was impossible, wasn't it? No one could heal that quickly, at least no ordinary person…

No! That couldn't be! But it hadn't worked before.. But what if it did? What if it actually worked? There was a way to find out, not a pleasant one, but at least it would be certain.

I held the knife to the palm of my hand, this time standing over the sink, to avoid another messy cleanup, not sure at all if this was the right or even sane thing to do. My hands were shaking, my heart racing and my stomach turning in anticipation.

I closed my eyes and moved the blade swiftly over my skin, inhaling sharply at the pain. I could smell the blood, heard it dripping down into the sink. I was afraid to open my eyes, but I had to make sure.

Well, there certainly was a wound this time, I could see it clearly, even touched it to make sure it was real. It was. Only, what to do next? What had I done before? Was it enough to just think of it healing up? Could it be that easy?

Judging from the trickle of blood stopping as the cut closed up right before my eyes, it was. After cleaning off the blood my hand looked as it had before, untouched.

The only sign that something strange and unusual had just happened was the familiar headache starting up, finally lighting the bulb that must have been hovering over my head for quite a while now.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's note: I want to apologize in advance for taking a bit longer to update in the next two weeks due to exams. I'll try to update as often as I can, but it might only be one chapter a week.

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Chapter 19:

It took me a few days and lots of experiments to fully figure out the extend and form of my powers. Superpowers! I had actual, real superpowers. I was gifted. Who'd have thought that?

I still don't know what to call them, or how exactly they worked. The only thing I did know was that I could change things with my mind. I could, essentially, change everything, except for one, my own mind. Meaning, the tumor was off-limits to my new healing abilities, so were tumor related headaches and my mental health.

I also think I figured out the reason for the tumor, seeing as it must have originated at the same time as my abilities. On that night I'd been dreaming about for days now.

Seeing as most of my headaches since that night were related to my tumor, my current theory was, that it grew whenever I used my power. I wasn't quite sure what effect each "demand" or "wish" had on its growth, or if using those new abilities I'd wished for also had an influence on it.

However, there was a way to find out. The MRI scheduled in about 2 weeks. I'd worked out that the lack of growth in the tumor from my 2nd to my latest scan must be connected to me not using any of my abilities. While the enormous growth and the fear for my imminent death was because of me wishing for all those things after my first hospital visit. Now I only had to wait for my next appointment to see if and how much existing abilities made my tumor grow.

Not being able to use my newly discovered superpowers, because it would screw up the experiment, was one of the most frustrating things one could imagine. It's like getting a new expensive car and not being allowed to drive it. All you can do is sit there and stare at it lovingly, counting the hours until you can finally take it for a spin.

Even the university didn't provide enough of a distraction anymore. Since I knew I was, probably, not going to die in the near future, and currently in possession of the ability to learn anything and everything with ease. Studying wasn't much of a challenge anymore. I even managed to retake some of my end-of-term exams, mostly by playing the sympathy card, with all I'd gone through, this year alone, and also by reading their minds. Because that I could also do.

Mind reading actually isn't as much fun as it's cracked up to be and I was really glad I could turn it off again. You don't always want to know what's going on in peoples heads. It does come in handy though, when you're taking oral exams.

I did sign up for a bunch of extra curricular courses in addition to the once from last semester, except for Krav Maga. I did't want to go back there, considering all that had happened and the fact that Lydia just settled for a huge amount of money and was probably not too keen on seeing me any time soon.

Though, the thing with my nose had been somehow my own fault. I had wished for "a buttload of money without having to play the lottery or working hard my entire life" a while ago, when I was thinking about making a run for it but was too broke to do so. And then again at the hospital where I'd wondered about how I was going to pay for all that. Which was probably the reason it all had worked out so well and quickly.

There were a few more instances where I'd used my gifts without knowing it. Dodging murder charges was certainly one of them. Thinking about my first night back at university, after New York and after Kilgrave, I'd wished for him to take the blame, for his DNA to be found at the crime scene. This was the only explanation for the police findings.

I knew he kept off the record, which was probably why they hadn't been able to find a match, but they did know that the murderer was male. He won't go to prison for it though, but at least _I_ knew that there was proof of his crimes, proof he'd ended someones life. Somewhere in a police station in New York there was his DNA and his fingerprints, he wasn't invisible, not anymore.


	20. Chapter 20

I stopped dreaming about my last night with Kilgrave, I didn't stop thinking about it though, about all of the time I had to spend with him, all the hours he kept me prisoner.

Slowly the memories came back, I could remember more and more details, allowed myself to remember them. I finally stopped pushing them down, stopped fighting them, now that I was stronger, now that I was gifted. But how exactly did I become gifted?

At first I'd thought it had been Kilgrave who gave me my powers, that his command had made me into what I was now. I didn't want it to be that way. He doesn't get to claim credit for me, not after what he'd done to my mind before that.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought back to that time, the more complicated the whole story seemed to get. One thing was clear, my abilities had started to form even before that fatal night. _They_ had actually been the reason for our final conversation, only I hadn't known then that I was gifted. I _had_ noticed that his powers didn't work on me the way they did on others. Sometimes they wore off more quickly, other times I managed to get around his orders, managed to twist his words in my favor. It did take a while for me to realize it, to actually be able to fight back. They were only little rebellions, at first, but the longer I was under his control, the stronger I got.

The first time I'd defied his orders had actually been an accident.

"Let's see." he stood in front of me, scanning me, even walking around me, seeing what he could improve next. "What's that thing called again? Not the one where you lift things. The other one."

"Cardio." the woman standing next to me answered. Her jaw tightened, she already knew the routine, she liked it as little as I did.

"Yes! That's it. Cardio! I want you to do cardio.", he smiled at me, taking my hand, making me twirl for him.

He stopped me just when I was about to get dizzy, moving his hands up my arms, over my shoulders, along my neck until he reached my cheeks, cupping my face. He tucked a lose strand of hair behind my ear, trailing his fingers along my cheekbone. He was holding my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him, listen to him.

"I want you to do cardio until you pass out. I want you to give it your all.", my empty stomach dropped, even though I'd already known what would happen, even though I'd told myself not to hope for things to change, still, I'd hoped, foolishly.

He turned to the woman, her hands clenched, her muscles tightened, she knew what he was about to say.

"You know the drill. If she stops, beat her." he caressed my face one last time. "I'll be back for supper. You know what I like."

I was moving before the door had even closed, working my tired acing body into the ground. I ignored my lungs protesting, my muscles screaming. I kept going, for a while at least.

Exercising on an empty stomach was a gruesome task, exercising with an already starved body was nearly impossible. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to do it, it was a matter of physically not being able to. My whole body was shaking after only a few minutes, I could feel my legs getting weaker and weaker, about to give in. But it was only my body that was about to collapse I was still far from passing out. This wouldn't end well, not for me or the woman standing by, ready to take action.

All I needed to do was to pass out, then this would all be over, then I could stop. Only I wasn't allowed to just give up. I hadn't given it my all yet. But what exactly was my all? Wasn't this "my all"? How much more was there? Did he want me to die? Was that my all?

But how could I pass out and give it my all? This doesn't make sense.

And there it was, a silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel, my loophole. The realization that his were only words, nothing more, words that could be twisted, interpreted, changed. That day I learnt to force myself to pass out, to avoid the beating and probably also dying of exhaustion.


	21. Chapter 21

The next step in my defiance was to look for the things he hadn't said, to use his words against him, or better the lack thereof.

Another day he'd just told me to do my usual morning routine, watching me as he ate his breakfast, leaving us to continue after he'd finished. I fainted soon after, ending my torture.

He'd left the rest of his breakfast on the table, hadn't even touched the eggs. I could smell them the second I came to. There was nobody around. They kept out of the way when Kilgrave wasn't there, avoiding me.

I'd finished eating before I even realized what I'd done. I ran to the bathroom, trying to make myself throw up, to not disobey his orders. It didn't work. I started crying. This wasn't supposed to happen, I wasn't supposed to eat. What if he found out? What would he do to me then? If he discovered that I defied his order. But had I really? Had he really told me to not eat anything today?

He hadn't, he'd forgotten. I'd done nothing wrong. I wouldn't have to tell him.

Those moments, those little pieces of resistance helped loosen the hold he had on my mind. There were even times when I was completely lucid, completely myself. I thought about escaping, more than once, but I never tried, I never got a chance to try. I was too weak, I wouldn't have gotten far, nor would I've known where to go. Half the time I was either unconscious, under his control or guarded. There was no point in even trying, he'd find me again anyway, there was no escaping him.

But I had escaped, I'd gotten away and I'd gotten stronger. A lot stronger. Maybe even strong enough to defeat him, to revenge his victims, Liam.

The one memory I still hadn't faced, the images I still kept pushing down whenever they surfaced. I could feel them lurking at the back of my mind, ready to pounce as soon as I let my guard down, together with one horrible realization I didn't dare admit yet.

Now that I knew I'd been able to resist Kilgrave's powers, now that I was aware of my gift. I could no longer blame Liams death on him. I was right from the start, it had been my fault and mine alone, without me he'd still be alive.

Before that last night with Kilgrave, he'd still had some power over me. I could only fight his control when he wasn't physically there, or once some time had past.

The last order he'd ever given that I had actually followed was revealing my powers. Not to him, but to myself, giving me the ability to do something no one had ever been able to do to Kilgrave, to lie.. That lie was the last piece I'd needed to break the hold he'd had on my mind, from that moment on, his words were only that, words.

Which is why all the excuses I'd made for killing Liam had been lies too. Fact is that only he had to follow Kilgraves order, I'd had a choice and I'd made the wrong one. His blood had been on my hands, literally and figuratively.

What did this mean for me? Was framing Kilgrave for my murder wrong? What about the murders he really had committed? The ones he'd made others go down for? If I had the chance to make him pay, to show the world who Kilgrave was, by making him pay for my crimes, should I do it? Could I do it?

All I had were theories. I thought that he no longer had a hold on my mind, but did I dare to put it to the test? What if I was wrong? If his power trumped mine? Facing him then would only give him a weapon he didn't have before, it could end catastrophically.

So I had to choose. Stay here like a coward and let Jessica fight him on her own. Or go back to New York and risk Kilgrave getting his hands on another gifted puppet to use for his amusement.

What should I do? What would Jessica do?


	22. Chapter 22

Apparently what Jessica would do, is kill Kilgrave. It was all over the news. Some people claimed it had been a drunken brawl, others thought there'd been a gas leak, making everybody go crazy and try to kill each other. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to believe the real story. That the man who died had possessed the ability to control minds, that he'd made police officers shoot at an unarmed woman, made a group of people try to murder each other. That, people said, was complete nonsense.

They did connect Liam Coopers murder to Kilgrave, along with a few others, probably not even a fraction of the actual body count, but enough to call him a sociopathic serial killer.

I should feel relieved, maybe even happy that this monster was finally gone. But there was nothing left, only a dark void of emptiness.

With him gone there was no purpose for me. I never got to find out if I was stronger than him, if my mind could control his. I never got to make him suffer, make him pay, even if it killed me. At least then I wouldn't have died in vain, I would have gone out of this world trying to make a difference in it. Instead of withering away at university with all that power in my head, along with a gigantic tumor, unable to do anything but whine.

This was pathetic, I was pathetic. I had the potential to really help people, to actually change things and all I did was sit on my ass all day waiting for some stupid scan to tell me what I already knew. That this stupid thing in my head was going to kill me. What did it really matter when exactly this would happen, if I wasn't going to use that time anyway?

For once in my life I had money and a chance to take action, to fight back and I was damn well going to take it.

I was on the bus to New York when I finally managed to think rationally again, when I started to panic. I'd just ended my academic career, if there ever was any to speak of, packed my bags and headed into a city full of strangers without giving it a second thought.

I could feel the weight of uncertainty suffocating me, taking the air out of my lungs, leaving me gasping, desperately trying to breathe. My heart started racing, my mind spinning, I felt as though I was drifting away from the world, that was now tilting to the side. My clammy hands tried to hold on to something, tried to keep me from falling over. I was sweating, heat rolling in waves over me taking the last bit of air with it. I thought I was going to die, right here, right now, die without getting a chance to even try to safe the world. This was it, this was the end.

This wasn't the end, it was, however, a full-blown panic attack, one that left me shaking, dizzy and with a massive headache for hours afterward. Only thinking about the attack made my heart speed up again, made me gasp for air.

So much for my plans of becoming a hero. I couldn't even survive a whole day without breaking down. If I ever was going to help people I would first have to get help myself. I would have to do the thing I'd avoided for years. I'd have to see a therapist.

Once I arrived in New York I headed to the first liquor store I could find. Not for myself, I was still resolved to get professional help, but I owed Jessica a bottle of whiskey. I got two and two bottles of bourbon, no idea if they were any good, but I doubt Jessica was going to complain.

I decided to walk to her apartment, I already knew the way and the cool air helped keep another panic at bay. It had been a few days since Kilgraves death, still, I felt like an intruder as I entered Jessicas building, her life, for the second time.

She probably didn't even remember me, doubt she wanted to have anything to do with me, even if she recognized me. I would only remind her of him... This was a stupid idea. Why did I think I could just barge into her life, unannounced, again?

Shit! It was too late to turn back now, I was already in the hallway outside her door. I could just leave the bottles there, along with her clothes. No note, notes are stupid. What would I even write on a note? "Thanks for killing the evil monster that ruined my life"? Would that even fit on a card? Did I even have a card? I could write "Thanks" on the paper bag the guy in the liquor store gave me. That was better than just leaving alcohol in front of someones door with a bunch of clothes next to it. Slightly less creepy.

I tried to arrange the bottles in a neat way, something that looked less stalkery, but only somewhat succeed. It wasn't going to look better than this and I'd already spent too much time here, lurking outside her door, that this started to feel a lot like a déjà-vu.

I'd just stepped into the elevator when I heard the door open behind me.

"What the ..? Hey! Did you do this?" I could hear some the bottles fall over, "Hey! Wait! I'm talking to you!"

This time I didn't press the button. This time I did turn around. This time I saw Jessica as she kicked the elevator doors back open.

"You! I know you! Who are you?"

"Hi, I'm Kate.. Katherine… Last time we met my face might have looked a bit different.. more purple, and swollen."

"Oh.. You.", the doors closed behind us with a ding.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's note: This is it, for now, my last chapter. I will try to continue writing on Kates story and maybe introduce her to the rest of the Marvel universe... We'll see.

Anyways, thank you guys so much for baring with me and your lovely reviews, favorites and follows! If you have any wishes, for future stories, or complaints write me a message.

Lots of Love

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Chapter 23:

"So why exactly are you back here? And why are you leaving alcohol and a duffle bag outside my door in the middle of the night?"

"I.. Well, I just wanted to give you your stuff back and thank you, you know. For letting me crash here, not for the other thing.." I looked down at my hands, feeling my cheeks getting flushed.

"Oh.. thanks. I guess." I could hear her opening one of the bottles, pouring some of the content into a glass.

"You look like you could use a drink." She handed me the glass, pouring some whiskey into a mug, "Cheers."

She downed the whole drink in one go, pouring herself another one. I took small sips of mine, feeling the alcohol burn my throat on its way down. Half my glass and a good portion of the bottle were empty before anybody said anything again.

"So. You gonna tell me why you're really here or do we need to empty this bottle before you finally spit it out?" she poured another mug-full, sitting down in a chair opposite me. I opened my mouth, closed it again, took another sip from my glass, trying to find the words.

"Jesus. This is going to take forever! Just say it. Go ahead, say his name."

I took a deep breath, emptied my glass and finally opened my mouth, "I'm not here to thank you for killing Kilgrave. I know you think that's why I'm here. It's not."

She looked surprised, lowering the mug she was about to empty, again.

"How do you _know_ that's what I was thinking?"

I took a second to think, there really was no elegant way to come out as gifted, at least none that I was aware of, "Because I read your mind."

"You can read minds?"

"Yes, among other things." She hadn't actually said that last question out loud, "I'm not reading them all the time. It's just too much work and not always very pleasant. Plus I try to give people their privacy… Yes I can turn it on and off. I usually kind of keep it on stand-bye, you could call it. I only use it to warn me, when someone's trying to harm me, or hurt others."

I waited, let her process for a while, watching her pace around the room, shooting me glances every now and then.

"You said 'among others'. What else is there? What else can you do?"

"Currently? Well, so far I can read minds, heal myself and others too, although I never actually tried that last one. Oh and I can learn stuff really easily, like from books and things, and sports and that kind of stuff too."

"So far? What do you mean with 'so far'?" She poured herself another drink and refilled my glass as well.

I took another big sip before continuing. "Well, I could ,potentially, have any ability I wanted."

"Potentially any ability? What about super strength? You're saying you could be as strong as me?"

"Technically yeah, but.."

"Prove it."

She stopped mid-pace, making me look up at her, standing over me, only somewhat steadily, ready to fight. I emptied my glass and got up, hoping my abilities wouldn't let me down now.

"Alright. Try me."

"What do you mean try me? I'm not just going to punch you! I could kill you!"

"You told me to prove it. So, punch me. Come on, try it!" I smiled mockingly, twitching my eyebrows at her.

"You asked for it."

She didn't use all her strength, but still enough so it would hurt me, if she'd actually hid my arm. I blocked her punch, feeling the raw power of superhuman strength pulse through me. Her eyes widened in surprise, I laughed.

"I did add a little super speed too, just for fun." I pinched her arm and rushed to her other side before she could react, almost crashing into her desk. I had to hold on to it to not fall over.

"Hey! W.. Katherine? You okay?"

"Yeah, no. That's the other thing I forgot to mention about my powers. There is a downside to being able to conjure up any superpower you want. I mean, there has to be. Wouldn't be fair otherwise. Ow!"

"What the hell are you talking about? And what exactly are your powers?"

"Good question."

I made my way back to the sofa, my eyes closed, trying not to faint from the pain making my head feel as if it was about to explode. Which it might actually do. Wishing for two new abilities at the same time might prove too much for my poor head, making it split in two. It certainly felt that way.

"I haven't quite been able to narrow that down either. I guess you could say, I have the ability to control things, anything really, with my mind. Well, except for one thing, of course. My own mind. Ironic, isn't it?"

She didn't answer or at least I don't think she did. I wasn't even sure I was still conscious, or alive. I certainly couldn't hear anything, or feel anything besides the searing pain in my head.

"You know what's even funnier? Every time I use my abilities the tumor I have sitting in my brain grows.. I guess you could call that 'Super Irony'. Hey, that could be my new superhero name. 'Super Irony - The mentally ill mind-controlling superhero with the giant tumor in her head'."

I laughed weakly, quickly stopping because it was turning into sobbing.

The pain slowly lessened, giving me back my senses. After a while I dared to open my eyes again. Jessica was sitting next to me looking slightly horrified and rather helpless.

"Sorry 'bout that." I wiped the tears off my cheeks, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself.

"What is it about this apartment that I keep having meltdowns here? And what on earth happened to your wall?"

"Long story… Another drink?"

"Yes, please."

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Epilogue

I woke up the next morning with a massive hangover on top of an even worse headache. Of the four bottles I'd brought Jessica, only two were left, the rest was currently either spilled onto the living room floor or making my stomach turn.

I felt better after I threw up, at least less sick. My head was still pounding and the daylight made my eyes hurt. Half blind I wandered through the trashed apartment looking for my bag and the painkillers in there.

"Who are you?"

I squinted against the light, trying to find out who was making that awful noise. "Shhh, too loud.. Katherine."

"Wait, do I know you? I feel like I've seen you before."

"Shhhhh. Don't know.. Can't really see anything right now.. Shit! Ow. Fucking hell." I'd run into the desk, stubbing my toe at the corner.

"Here." he handed me something as he walked past. I could hear him fiddle around with the windows. "Katherine, that's it. Knew I saw you somewhere before. You look better, well, less bruised."

The room turned dark. I could finally open my eyes a little, looking down at the thing he'd given me. Jessica's jacket. The one she'd given to me after I stayed at her apartment for the first time. I mumbled "Thanks", slipping the jacket on.

"You look better too, less detoxy."

He laughed, I flinched at the noise. "Sorry.. So, rough night?"

"I've had worse."


End file.
